


Love Breeds Life

by alexanderfightwood



Category: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: (probably some historical inaccuracies because i'm trash!), Alternate Universe - Historical, French Revolution au, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Playwright!Magnus, Soldier!Alec
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-10-27 19:43:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17773067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexanderfightwood/pseuds/alexanderfightwood
Summary: Paris 1795, France is at the height of its revolution. Magnus is a playwright who left England to escape the war the American revolution brought, while Alec is an American soldier who decided to honour the treaty that George Washington flushed down the toilet. The two meet on the rebellious streets of Paris and among the war the two men grow close. Will the struggle of revolution tear them apart or can they find love in the trenches of societal chaos?





	1. Paris Nights

**Author's Note:**

> I had a solid 10 wiki pages open while writing this to make it as historically accurate as possible, but I’m sure I missed something somewhere, so don’t drag me. I tried. This was written as a Valentine’s Day gift for my girlfriend, so I only had enough time to finish the first chapter. Hopefully I can update this weekly. I’m going to shoot for Fridays, starting on the 22nd. All mistakes are mine.

France was beautiful in May. Or… it had been. Now? Riots were no longer simply a fact, but they were unending. The rebellion had begun in Paris, but Magnus knew better. This wasn’t a rebellion, it was a revolution, and that meant one thing. 

War. War was on it’s way, even having already begun in some colonies, and it was going to be a long one. People were angry, the monarchy was furious, and their colonist- American friends had deserted them. France was on its own, and they had no chance. Morale was growing in some places, only to plummet in others. Mobs swarmed the streets from dusk till dawn, even the French Guard seemed to be in support of the chaos.

Magnus had come to France when he was only 20 years old, he’d left his home in Wales. He’d adored England, especially the Celtic heritage present in Wales. But, when the American revolution was at its beginning and the King had finally gone mad Magnus had left. Now, Magnus was 39, and facing yet another chaotic life. Magnus was not one for war, or fighting in any sense. He had no wishes to harm others, no wishes to break free since he didn’t view himself at a citizen of any land. All he wanted to do? Write.

Magnus was a playwright, even a few that had actually made it to theatres. He knew he was talented with a quill. It was the one place he felt completely at home. For a man who had never truly experienced a sense of belonging it was the perfect escape. And, despite the chaotic streets outside he wrote. If there was one thing that nothing, even a war, couldn't stop it was art. It was creation.

“Bane!” Cat shouted, tossing a balled up paper at him. “Are you coming or not?”

Magnus turned towards his friend. 

Cat was gorgeous. She was tall, curvy, an had legs Magnus would kill for. Of course, many didn’t see her that way. Slavery may have been abolished, but that didn’t mean people were happy about it. The war meant that a good chunk needed something to be angry at, and many chose the black community, but it also meant majority were too drunk or high to care. She was also a medic so most people had to respect her whether they wanted to or not.

“You know how I feel about rebellion revels,” he sighed dramatically.

“You love them,” Cat clarified. “Now come on,” she tossed his jacket to him. “Join me in the streets!” She called joyously. “Let inspiration and liquor fill you, friend.”

Magnus capped his ink and caught the jacket all in one fluid movement, throwing a mischievous look to his companion.

“Have I told you how much I adore you?” Magnus teased.

“Not nearly enough,” she replied, opening the door and leading him into the ever loud streets of Paris.

The two took hands and danced and ran down the streets, calling and hollering to the crowds that swarmed the streets every night. There was fights on every street corner, ruken songs of freedom many men believed was in their grasp, and Magnus lived off the constant energy that flowed on the clear night air. Magnus lifted his free hand to let it graze a tattered French flag as they passed.  _ Soon _ .

Eventually they arrived at the tavern hall. It was full of blue-coated army men and women who knew far better than to be out. Music was loud and drinks were infinite. Magnus really did adore these.

“I’m getting a drink, do find me before you blow me off for some gorgeous stranger will you?” Cat insisted as she left Magnus to his own devices, always a dangerous game.

Magnus found his way to the dance floor in no time, dancing with a few beautiful women, charming them as was easy during late nights. Magnus did adore celebrations, and Cat hadn’t been wrong. The overflowing tension of the war was more inspiration than any writer could dream of. Every night he met someone with a story he couldn’t wait to write.

As the night grew darker and his new friends grew drunker Magnus wandered out of the tavern. He found Cat on his way out, sending her a wave and smile.

The night air was warm this time of year. It was still loud but Magnus didn’t mind. He turned to head around the back of the building, spotting a man on the ground, coughing up blood.

“Rough night?” he called lightly as he approached, his blue coat was covered in dirt. “Soldier,” he added for his own amusement.

“No rougher than I can handle,” came a rough voice.

Magnus knelt own to the man’s level. It took a second but the man finally looked up at him and Magnus felt himself resist the urge to gasp. Magnus had met many beautiful people, but none with eyes like that.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Careful handsome, offers like that are dangerous,” Magnus smirked.

A look of confusion crossed the man’s face as he pushed himself up and leaned against the brick walls.

“Need a hand?” Magnus offered.

“No,” he answered simply, pushing himself off the wall and stumbling right into Magnus’ arms. “Get off me!”

“Whoa there, you’re the one that threw yourself into my very willing arms, gorgeous,” he laughed, helping to right the man. “Magnus Bane, does the uniform come with a name?”

“Alec Lightwood,” the man spoke, and that was when Magnus heard it.

“The accent,” he said softly. “American?”

“Yes,” he said, and it looked as if he was readying himself for some kind of backlash.

“Accompany me?” Magnus instead asked. “I have something for your hands,” he gesture to the deep and now dirty cuts on the man’s hands and knuckles. “Plus alcohol, at my loft.”

“I don’t think so,” Alec tried to resist, his head drooping a bit.

“Come along, Alexander. My place is far more safe a place to pass out then this alley,” he pointed out.

It took a little more encouragement but finally the man agreed. Magnus was able to help him back, sitting him down on the couch and grabbing his a glass of scotch along with some extra to clean his cuts and some bandaging. 

He began to care for his wounds as Alec hissed and drank.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Alec asked.

“A friend of mine,” he said as he treated the cuts, cleaning them. “She’s a war medic.”

“My sister was a war medic,” Alec said softly.

“Was?” Magnus questioned, fearing she’d perished.

“In the American war,” he explained. “She didn’t come with me when I came to fight here.”

“Why did you do that?” Magnus couldn’t help but ask. “Come to fight here. You guys had won your war.”

“Washington may not be your friend, but I believe in the dead treaty,” he said, his back straightening a bit.

“Can’t fault a man of honour,” Magnus said as he wrapped the hands and stood, going to grab himself a drink. “You should stay the night. I know not many of us are kind to Americans, especially when you’re already injured.”

“I don’t want to impose,” he insisted, shaking his head.

“Alexander,” he called with a soft smile. “I have never been upset to have such a beautiful man on my couch.”

Magnus caught a blush in the dim candle light and smiled to himself.

“One night,” the soldier agreed.

 


	2. Tragic Treats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus and Alec spend a quiet morning together before Alec takes his leave. That's not the end for these two, however. Nothing screams romance like a gunshot wound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I made the deadline I set? Look at me go. I hope you guys enjoy this! Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.

The next morning Alec awoke to the smell of bread. He peeked his eyes open, taking in his surroundings. Right, he was in Magnus Bane’s residence. Magnus Bane, a man who Alec didn’t know at all, yet he’d spent the night. He should know better, especially as an American in France.

He sat up, the blanket that had been placed over him pooled around his hips. 

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Magnus called brightly as he set down a glass of water along with freshly made bread and butter.

“Good morning, Mr. Bane,” Alec hoped showing how one was meant to be addressed by another gentlemen would convince Magnus to alter his language.

“You slept soundly, I take it?” the older questioned.

“Yes, getting beaten in an alley tends to allow you at least that benefit,” he commented as Magnus took to perching himself on top of a desk. “You know most French men would not allow an American into their home.”

“Technically not French, only came here 19 years ago,” Magnus corrected. “And, I'm not  _ most people _ . Thank you very much.”

“Then who are you?” Alec asked boldly, not letting his eyes leave Magnus’.

“Sure you're American?” he chuckled, most Americans were not so forward with their intrigue. “Magnus Bane, playwright. I'm also a lovely dancer,” he teased. “Wanna see?” he jokingly held out his hand.

“You're not very bright are you, sir?” Alec questioned. 

“Oh, I'm plenty intelligent, smart enough to speak my mind,” Magnus insisted as he went to retrieve his own breakfast.

Alec didn’t reply. He just watched Magnus. ‘ _ Smart enough to speak my mind’  _ kept running through his head. That didn’t sound smart to Alec. He’d been taught to hold his tongue, conform to the situation, and be strategic in how he spoke and interacted. Which had always seemed weird to him. Everyone back home spoke of honesty and nobility, but they all lied and tried to best one another. He listened, though. He did as he was told. Always.

Until, recently. His parents had been against him going to France. They said they admired his sense of honour, but that it was to dangerous. However, Alec was 29 and they had no means to stop him. Isabelle had chose to remain home, stating she wanted to be part of building what they’d all fought so hard for. Of course, his brother had come. Jace never shied away from a fight, more accurately he chased them.

Alec took a bite of the bread with butter and smiled. 

War always meant the basics, but he’d gotten used to that during the American revolution. 

“So, Mr. Bane,” Alec spoke, “Why did you let an American into your home?”

“I hold no grudges. Do I think your president made the correct decision? No. A deal was made, and I for one wholly believe in honouring any promise you make. But, his people did not make that choice for him, why would I blame them?” Magnus shrugged. “Plus, I like having attractive men in my presence.”

Magnus was being as careful as he could allow himself. While it was no longer illegal to be a homosexual, it was still very frowned upon. In America, it was still illegal, and that meant he doubted Alec would take kindly to it. Yet, Magnus tended to have some sixth sense about these things. He always seemed to be able to find others like himself. Plus, calling another man attractive didn’t mean anything other than the simple compliment it was.

“You seem wiser than most,” Alec replied, leaning back now that he was a bit more comfortable. “I do appreciate your kindness. Though, I’ve no way to repay you.”

“Don’t fret about it. You are helping our efforts, and that’s thanks enough,” he said, going to look out the windows at the busy and hectic streets. “ I can’t imagine you sailed before the war?”

Alec shook his head as he ate.

“France used to be beautiful. Before all this. Very few places were able to stay beautiful, I sometimes go to those few places when I need inspiration.”

The two continued to talk for another hour or so, before Alec stood.

“I am thankful for all your aid, but I really must return to where I’m staying,” he insisted.

“Must you really?” Magnus couldn't help but ask.

“My brother will get himself killed if I leave him alone for too long,” Alec insisted. “Thank you, Mr. Bane.”

“Magnus,” he shook his head. “We use our Christian names in my house, Alexander.”

“Thank you- Magnus,” it felt weird on his tongue, but not a bad weird. “Will I see you again?” Alec asked on a whim.

“If you’re lucky,” he smirked, waving as Alec gathered his boots and coat. “May we meet again.”

Then he was gone.

 

* * *

 

Magnus didn’t run into Alec for a long time. It was two months later that the two met again. Magnus was at home, working on his new play. An American soldier falling in love with a French woman during the passion of war. Cat always did say that he was extremely connected to his writing. 

There was a pounding on his door, which was odd since he wasn’t expecting anyone.

Upon opening it he found a very disheveled Alec, barely managing to hold up a very beaten blond. 

“Alexander?” Magnus asked.

“Alex-” the blond began to question but was cut short by coughing violently and getting blood on Magnus’ stoop.

“Help?” Alec asked desperately. 

“Come on in,” Magnus sighed, stepping aside.

Alec rushed to get the stranger on Magnus’ couch.

“What happened?” the older questioned.

“We were fighting some British bastards down on  Rue de l’Èglise,” Alec said, butchering the French. “Some idiot,” he glared at the groaning man on the couch. “Got right into their line of fire and got himself shot. Can you help?”

“I can try,” Magnus finally said, going to grab some medical supplies he had and getting the man out of his shirt since the wound was near his hip.

“This is my brother, by the way,” Alec said as Magnus assessed the wound. “Jonathan Christopher Lightwood.”

“Jace Lightwood,” croaked the man.

“You be quiet,” Magnus insisted. “Good news is the bullet went in one side and out the other, which means I won’t have to dig it out. He’s losing blood fast, though. Don’t move,” he ordered to the blond as he began to clean and wrap while Jace groaned and cried out.

“He’s going to be fine, right?” Alec demanded.

“He will be if you would also close that pretty mouth and let me work,” Magnus said as he worked.

Alec sat down by Jace’s head, stroking his hair as he groaned.

After a good 15 minutes Magnus was confident enough the other would be fine. Jace however had passed out from both the pain and blood loss. Magnus tried not to be annoyed that the stranger had ruined his couch.

“I’m sorry to bring you this kind of trouble,” Alec said softly.

Magnus looked over at the boy who was clearly an image of relief.

“There wasn’t a lot of medics there, and I remembered you were close. I’m sorry, Mr- Magnus.”

“It’s perfectly alright, Alexander. He’s your brother, of course you wanted him to be treated. I don’t mind,” he promised. “Plus,” he said, biting his lip as he watched the other. “I was hoping to see you again.”

“You were?” Alec couldn’t help himself from asking.

“I was,” he confirmed softly.

There was an odd feeling in the air. Like they both knew something, something they shouldn’t know. Neither had any intention of pretending they didn’t, though.

“I’ll make us some tea,” Magnus finally said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated, if you want to interact with me or send me prompts just go to my tumblr: [alecgfightwood](http://alecgfightwood.tumblr.com/).


	3. A Night In Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus, Alec, an Jace go out for a night of drinking and dancing, it doesn't quite go as they expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry I missed my update schedule. You get two chapters this Friday! Both are unbetaed, so sorry for the typos.

Once the tea was made Alec and Magnus sat at the bay window in his loft, talking to one another while Jace slept.

“You don't talk about yourself much,” Alec stated after a while. “You keep asking me about my life, but you don't speak of yourself.”

It was true. Magnus had never liked speaking about himself, though. He didn't want anyone to know his past. He'd been around a long time and he didn't care to relive those moments. Instead he liked to look forward, to the future.

“It adds to my mystery,” he teased with a wink.

The wink caused Alec eyes to go wide before leaving Magnus to look out the window as pink dusted pale cheeks. He had been right. Alec was like him.

“What are you plans for after the war?” Magnus questioned. 

“My father works under Madison,” Alec admitted. “I'm to work in government,or law, or both.”

“Is that what you want?” Magnus asked.

“I don't know,” he said truthfully. “I'm only 29. Most of my life has been spent at war. That's what I'm good at.”

“You can't fight forever, though,” Magnus insisted softly, reaching out to lightly touch the back of Alec’s hand. 

The younger looked down at the hands like he wanted to yank his own away, but he didn't. 

“Alec,” croaked Jace from the couch, and Alec did pull his hand away to go check on him without another word to Magnus.

 

* * *

 

Jace thanked Magnus for his help, insisted he must come celebrate with him and Alec. Magnus tried to convince Jace to stay off his feet for a few days but he wouldn't listen. From the way Alec was acting Magnus gathered that this wasn’t unusual for Jace, at least the refusing to rest part, Magnus wasn’t sure about the getting shot part. It was quickly becoming clear that Alec hadn’t been dramatic when he said his brother would get himself killed if left alone for too long. Magnus agreed to celebrate with them, though. Magnus never said no to a little fun. 

Jace brought them to a pub that Magnus hadn’t been to since the rebellion broke out. The only thing that changed about bars was how busy they were. Magnus had never seen more people drunk than during war. 

“Magnus Bane,” someone called from across the bar.

His head whipped around. A young girl stood on the other side of the establishment, waving enthusiastically. 

“Clarissa, darling!” Magnus brightened substantially, and Alec wasn’t sure why but he suddenly didn’t like this stranger.

“Who is that?” Jace asked, those his eyes didn’t leave the redhead.

“That, Mr. Droolington, is Clarissa Fairchild,” the oldest smirked at the blond. 

“Your fiance?” Alec couldn’t help but ask, the question causing Magnus to actually choke on his drink.

“No,” he chuckled, the girl coming over. “My darling,” which Alec would insist was far too intimate a term for anyone other than the one you intended to marry. “Please tell my new friend here that we are not betrothed.”

Clary’s eyes went wide, her mouth falling open.

“Ew,” was her immediate response.

“I resent that,” Magnus’ indigent tone came.

“No, I just mean, Magnus is like an older brother to me,” she tried to explain.

“Well, it is my absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jace Lightwood,” Jace introduced himself, offering her a slight bow.

“You’re American,” it was not said with the same fascination that had accompanied Magnus tone when he’d asked Alec only months ago.

“Careful, biscuit,” Magnus was grinning, though. “He was already shot once today.”

“Maybe a second will do him good,” she responded.

“Women don’t carry firearms,” Alec reminded the group.

“Maybe where you come from,” Clary said, staring up at the other as if he wasn't a full head higher than her. “Here, we fight.”

Magnus was smiling at his friend. If there was one thing Clary was never short on it was an opinion, plus the sass to go with it.

“Magnus, I’ve grown bored with the Americans,” she said dramatically. “Catch me later, once you’ve dismissed the traitors.”

With that Clary turned on her heel and left the group, returning to whoever she’d come with.

“I have to have her,” Jace said immediately.

“You need to stop doing things that will get you shot,” Magnus replied with a role of his eyes.

“Yeah, I don’t like her,” Alec muttered.

“Sorry gents, fate calls,” and then Jace was running off after her.

“Is he always like that?” Magnus questioned.

“Kind of,” Alec shrugged. “He seems weirdly invested after only a short conversation, though. Hopefully it passes.”

“For his sake, he might be a veteran but Clarissa could kill him in a handful of seconds,” the older insisted.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Alec muttered.

“Come along,” Magnus suddenly changed gear, grabbing Alec’s hand and leading him through the bar, to a set of stairs.

“What’s up there?” Alec asked suspiciously. 

“Well, it used to be a molly house,” Magnus said casually.

“What!?” Alec physically tried to pull away.

“Calm down, they closed up during the war,” he said, pulling Alec up the stairs after him. “It’s empty now,” he informed him.

“Then what are we doing?” Alec asked, clearly annoyed when they arrived at the upper landing, no candles were lit, but outside torches shed enough light to see they were alone.

“Well, I didn’t think you’d want to dance in front of all those people,” Magnus said, holding out his arm as cue for Alec to allow Magnus’ to take him by the hip.

“I am not dancing with you!” Alec growled, but didn't pull his hand away.

“Alexander,” he said softly, understandingly. “No one cares, and even if they did, we’re alone,” he gestured around them. “One dance?” They could still hear the band downstairs.

Alec looked around the empty space, then back at the vacant stairs. Magnus worried he may have went too far. Alec looked as if he was going to pull away and high tail it right out of the bar and Magnus’ life.

“One,” he said firmly, pulling Magnus by the hip instead.

Apparently he wanted to be the gentlemen, Magnus wasn’t overly surprised. He’d play damsel for the moment, then. If it meant he got to dance with Alec what did it matter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated, if you want to interact with me or send me prompts just go to my tumblr: [alecgfightwood](http://alecgfightwood.tumblr.com/).


	4. Market Meetups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night takes a quick turn and some plans get's made that will put two star-crossed lovers on the right path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the second chapter for this week. Hope you enjoy.

One dance turned into two, and two turned into three. Magnus allowed Alec to continue leading, he ended up resting his head on Alec’s shoulder, despite Alec being a bit shorter. He was also softly singing the lyrics of each song as they danced.

Alec seemed to realize how cozy they’d gotten though because he pulled away and fully held Magnus at arms length. 

“I think our dance is up,” he said calmly.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Magnus said softly, hopefully.

“Yes, it does.” Alec was firm in his decision, he let go of Magnus. “I should go find my brother before the redheaded woman murders him.” 

Alec turned and fled down the stairs, Magnus went after mostly because he had no plans to stay on a empty floor by himself.

The two did end up finding Jace, but he was very much not in danger of murder. Clary was blushing and laughing, Jace very obviously been at this for quite some time.

“Clarissa?” Magnus chuckled softly, catching her attention. “Making friends with the American?”

“Don’t even, Bane,” she warned. “I saw you sneak the other upstairs.”

“We di-” Alec began to protest.

“There was no sneaking!” Magnus defended. “Why would I hide the fact that I have the most gorgeous man with me?”

“Magnus!” Alec snapped.

“Alec, what’s going on?” Jace asked, a bit confused, and a little annoyed Clary’s attentions were no longer solely his.

“Nothing, we should go. We have a meeting tomorrow with some of the other soldiers,” Alec insisted.

“Will I see you again?” Clary asked, trying not to sound hopeful.

“It would be a crime if I did not find you again,” Jace insisted, Magnus rolling his eyes.

“Goodnight, Alexander,” he called as Alec dragged Jace away, “See you soon.”

* * *

  
  


Magnus hadn’t been wrong. He did see Alec rather quickly. And, there was no wounds this time, which Magnus was thankful for. He didn’t like the idea of it becoming a habit, he wasn’t an actual medic, after all.

Instead he ran into the younger man at a produce stand in town. Fresh produce was harder to come by, but those that had it made a killing during the war.

“Alexander,” he greeted with a grin.

“Magnus,” he said, and it seemed that it was a pleasant surprise.

“The one and only,” he teased, giving a theatrical twirl.

“I’ve been meaning to see you actually,” Alec admitted.

“Go on,” Magnus insisted, curious.

“I wanted to apologize for my behaviour the other night. Leaving with such haste, it was rude.”

“It was no such thing,” Magnus insisted, he’d understood. “However, if you’d like to make it up to me…”

“How?” Alec asked, clearly cautious.

“I knew you were smart,” he said, in regard to Alec being hesitant. “It’s nothing too extravagant. You’re in Paris, let me show you the town without all the blood and mud and war, let me show you _ my Paris _ ?”

“Now?” Alec asked, looking around and clearly didn’t think it was an appropriate time to go sightseeing.

“Tonight,” Magnus corrected. “Meet me at the Tower?”

“That ugly thing?” Alec questioned.

“I know not many people like the structure, but I think it has a certain charm to it. Not very unlike yourself,” he said with a wink. “Seven o’clock, don’t be late.”

“I won’t,” Alec said, but Magnus had already turned to leave.

“It’s a date,” the older whispered under his breath.

* * *

  
  


“So what, are you going to start writing him love letters or something?”

“Jace!” Alec glared as he got ready. “You know I’m not- that.”

“I know,” he rolled his eyes. “But, he clearly is.”

“So what? I shouldn't associate with molly men?” Alec asked, not letting it show that this conversation was killing him.

“No!” Jace said, clearly offended. “You shouldn’t lead him on.”

“What?” Alec asked in confusion.

“He likes you. He has no chance, and it’s wrong to let him think he does,” Jace responded. “I don’t care if he’s a molly boy, that doesn’t mean you can play with him like that.”

“It’s just some sightseeing,” Alec insisted.

“Not to him,” Jace said. “But fine, play with the man’s heart, not like he saved my life or anything,” he grumbled, going to a different room.

“Not just him.” Alec whispered to himself. “I’m so screwed.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated, if you want to interact with me or send me prompts just go to my tumblr: [alecgfightwood](http://alecgfightwood.tumblr.com/).

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated, if you want to interact with me or send me prompts just go to my tumblr: [alecgfightwood](http://alecgfightwood.tumblr.com/).


End file.
